Across the Pond

Slip 'n Slide

2010-01-08T10:23:00Z

My office is abuzz this morning with the following video of a driver ditching her car as it begins to slide on ice.

In the interest of full disclosure I should say that I don't know where this video originated (although it is the UK, since the driver is on the righthand side of the car) and it is, possibly, a prank. However, it's been great listening to my colleagues debate the merit of these drivers' decision to jump out of the car.

"She needs to use her hand brake," one said.

"Jumping out is stupid because your doors could get ripped off," said another.

A quick search reveals lots of dangerous winter driver videos on YouTube, such as this one, which reminds us all to be very,very careful indeed, especially on snowy, icy, hilly English roads that haven't been gritted!

Winter's fury--in England

2010-01-07T23:07:36Z

When I made a business call to Chicago a few hours ago, I was told that the man I was trying to reach wasn't in the office.

"He couldn't get in because of the snow," the receptionist explained.

"Oh, I know, it's awful, isn't it?" I replied sympthatetically. My sympathy wasn't for the Chicagoans, but for my fellow residents in Britain. Yet it was real all the same.

Yes, Chicago, we in Nottingham are experiencing your fate. We've had less snow than you, perhaps (well, OK, much less, at least up here in the East Midlands), but as you've lived through your own travel and school closure nightmare, so have we.

Great Britain is in the grip of one of the coldest and snowiest winters in recent history. Check out this photo and article here.

School holidays ostensibly ended a few days ago but most children (and lucky teachers, such as my new British fiance) are getting an extended vacation. Even in Nottinghamshire where we've only had a few inches, head teachers are calling snow day after snow day because the English roads just aren't fit for driving. This is a land without round-the-clock streets and sanitation workers, without many snowplows, and with rapidly dwindling supplies of grit (the English equivalent of salt for gritting down roads and paths).

Simply put, England just isn't used to handling real winter. And, to make matters worse, most Brits have little experience driving in snow. It's not their fault but, as one exasperated American friend living in London put it, "Snow in England seems to be the cue to drive stupid." I do feel the need to point out that many Americans drive stupidly in snow, as well, but they certainly get very little practice here at stopping on ice and driving cautiously down a snowy highway.

I'm not blaming the British government for the way the transportation system has ground to a halt, thereby affecting schools and businesses. It doesn't make sense to invest in heavy winter infrastructure for the occasional tough winter. But it does make winter seem like much more of an imposition, rather than just another season to live through. It's still another reminder that, as much as we humans like to be in control, sometimes we simply aren't.

Fantasy Football dropout

2009-12-01T13:04:16Z

On Thanksgiving Day, Sun-Times reporter Joe Agrest gave thanks for Titans' running back Chris Johnson, whom he now "owns," thanks to Fantasy Football.

I, too, own some players, including Kurt Warner. It's all thanks to my brother who, this year, begged me to join his online Fantasy Football league.

Not only did Peter beg, but he threw in a heavy does of guilt. "It's Grandpa's idea," he wrote in his email. "It's the one thing Grandpa says will make him happy this year with all of his family members spread around the world."

Now my grandfather does like his football, as do many other members of the family, though I strongly suspect Peter was exagerrating Grandpa's great need for a fantasy league--clearly my bro is the one who really wanted the league! I like football, too. But I have to admit that I've pretty much forgotten about football after two years in England. American football, anyway.

I have a few fanatical English friends who stay up all night to watch the Superbowl on a BBC sports channel, and I have heard rumours of a few American pro football games being played in London for a lark (or in an attempt to increase the fan base?) But the sad and simple truth, I have realized, is that I just don't care enough about it to follow it after a few years in another country.

After my brother's pleadings I joined his Yahoo Fantasy Football league. I had to make several long-distance calls to figure out exactly how it all works, with questions like, "Uh...I kinda forgot what a bye week is. What am I supposed to do now?" I even checked on my team and arranged the roster for the first few weeks.

But then I simply forgot. I know it's embarrassing and unthinkable to those of you who eat, drink and sleep football, but I hear American football mentioned about once every six months. I am not exagerrating (unlike my dear brother). I don't know anything about the players, the teams or even the scandals. Fantasy football dropped completely off my radar.

A few weeks ago I got an email from my uncle. My team was due to play his that Sunday and he pointed out that I had a few players who were off. So I pulled up my page, saw without any surprise at all that I was way way way down at the bottom of the list, far underneath my parents, brothers, cousins, uncles and grandfather. I made the necessary substitutions. I saved the page with the best intentions to turn over a new leaf.

That was several weeks ago and I don't even know who won that match. In fact, I haven't looked at the page since. But I can tell you that, unless England pulls together its various sports politicos, our chance of hosting the 2018 World Cup is doomed.

The pumpkin pie palaver

2009-11-26T08:33:31Z

If you don't want to mess about with dough and filling, then just buy a pumpkin pie.

So says this Centerstage article, listing top Chicago bakeries that can meet your pumpkin pie needs.

But what if you live in a land without pumpkin pie? A land where your friends say, "Pumpkin? In a pie? A sweet pie? Not a savory pie?" And a land where, the first time you make one, someone takes one bite of your prize creation and says, "Ugghhh....this pumpkin pie thingy is minging!"

(*minging-disgusting, gross, nasty, etc...)

Yes, my pal James, bless his honest English heart, did call my pumpkin pie minging when he tried it two years ago. But I wasn't offended. Not that offended, anyway. I know pumpkin pie is an unusual taste, even to many Americans. Heck, I didn't even like it until I became an adult. But, on the whole, most Brits like pumpkin pie when they have it at the Thanksgiving dinners I've been part of the last two years.

One of the problems with making pumpkin pie in England, however, is that you have to think far ahead. Pumpkins are only sold through mid-October in most stores and I neglected this year to buy a few, create a puree and freeze it. Luckily a colleague was going to Chicago for a conference, so one of my trusted Evanston friends bought me two cans of Libby's and sent it back with my colleague on the airplane. Another expat friend, however, didn't know she was cooking a Thanksgiving meal for 16 Brits until last week, so she found herself in a bit of a pickle. After putting out a plea on Facebook, she discovered she could get canned pumpkin at Waitrose luxury food shop--sort of.

"It's only 60 percent pumpkin and 40 percent squash," she wrote on her Facebook page. "Is that OK? Will it work?"

We reassured that yes, sometimes the best Thanksgiving pies have a mixture of several different squashes and that at least she didn't make the mistake of our friend Bethany who, on her long stay in England, couldn't find pumpkin and, in desperation, used mango. "I ended up with kind of a mango tart rather than a pumpkin pie," she later explained. "It was disgusting."

So here it is, Thanksgiving once more. I'm headed to the house of a large British family who spent two years in Seattle and picked up the glorious Thanksgiving tradition. As the token American at this celebration, and armed with my two cans of Libby's, I offered to make the pies. On Sunday night, however, when I reviewed the coming week's schedule, I realized the only time I had free to make the pies was early Thanksgiving morning, before work.

"Thanksgiving is much easier and more relaxing when you have the day off work," I grumbled yesterday in a conversation with my brother.

These whiny thoughts continued as I got up extra early this morning and brushed my teeth. They definitely increased in volume when I discovered I was out of eggs and had to pull on my coat for a chilly early morning walk to the shop.

"Why am I even bothering with Thanksgiving?" I muttered. "I've been here long enough that I don't mind skipping it so much. Nobody else feels the holiday spirit. Listen to me grumble, and I'm not even making the turkey!"

But now I am sitting in my warm kitchen a few minutes before I go to work. The window panes are frosted over and the delicious smell of baking pumpkin custard is wafting from the oven, as well as simmering apple odors. (I had some extra crust, so I used apples from the garden tree to do a small apple pie, as well).

I feel that rosy Thanksgiving glow creeping over me--the contentment of good food, good friends and the joy of being at a good place in life. I am so grateful to my English friends for the way they've embraced this American and this American tradition and how, despite their suspicion, they are willing each year to try some pumpkin pie.

Lovely Lake District

2009-11-25T12:00:15Z

At the end of October I crossed one of the items off my bucket list by finally visiting England's Lake District.

We come across this stunning autumnal tree while taking an afternoon hike across hills, pastures and woods between the towns of Windermere and Ambleside.

The county of Cumbria, nestled in the very northwestern tip of England, is famed for its lakes, mountains and countryside. If you've seen the sweet 2006 Beatrix Potter biopic Miss Potter, then you've seen the Lake District. If you've read Wordsworth, then you've seen the Lake District, at least in word pictures. If you've read "Pride and Prejudice," then you know Elizabeth Bennett's pain at being denied her visit to the Lakes and you know it must be something good (although, let's be honest, Elizabeth gets to go to the equally stunning Derbyshire--the neighboring county to my Nottinghamshire home--and she makes out pretty well there in the end).

At long last, after two years in England, I made it to the Lake District with a friend, and we spent three glorious autumn days exploring the villages and countryside along both sides of the 10-mile Lake Windermere.

The village of Ambleside stretches out along Lake Windermere in Cumbria, the Lake District in England's northwest.

Although the day we wandered around the countryside was grey and misty--in true British holiday form--this view from the top of Orrest Head hill was still arrestingly dramatic.

After two days exploring the sizeable towns of Bowness, Windermere, Ambleisde and Keswick on the eastern side of the lake (although Keswick is actually about a 20-mile drive north of the lake and through some small mountains) we spent our third day by crossing Lake Windermere on the car ferry to visit Hawkshead Village, which was charming not only for its Beatrix Potter gallery displaying her original illustrations, but also had many intriguing shops. We then took a leisurely drive back up along the lake's western side, admiring the gorgeous fall plumage as much as we could on the tiny, twisty, hillside country lanes, before coming back around to Ambleside.

All Chicago architecture fans who visit the Lakes should make a trip to Blackwell Arts & Crafts house, which is a simply breathtaking example of a holiday house built at the height of the movement's popularity during the earliest days of the 20th century. Situated on a hill high above the lake, the house is a jewel box filled with one stunning feature after another, from the simple aesthetic placement of wooden planks on the landing to delicate carving in the corridors. After years of writing about Chicago architecture and design, I was delighted to see an Arts & Crafts house in the place where it all began.

This Cumbrian countryside farm yard is brightened by glorious leaves.

Knocking 'em dead

2009-11-24T14:18:56Z

I laughed at Travel Editor Lori Rackl's account of seeing the band The Killers in line at an airport in Mexico, and it made me think of my own recent star encounter here in England.

Joe and Kevin Jonas take fan questions during the "intimate" pre-concert sound check event, attended by a lucky few hundred little ladies.

I have the good fortune (misfortune, some might call it) of being distantly connected to the Jonas Brothers. Now if you are a normal adult here in England, you would scratch your head and say, "Should I know who the Jonas Brothers are?" From what I understand about America, this is not the case, as one cannot escape the squeaky clean teen singing sensations. In England, however, the Jonas Brothers are known only to two groups: pre-teen and teenage girls (namely those who get the Disney Channel on satellite tv); and their parents.

I am well-acquainted with the Jonas Brothers because my very talented cousin Ryan Liestman is their keyboardist and he travels the world with them. Ryan and I lived in the same neighborhood when we were small and spent hours playing together, but now I get to see Ryan when the Jonas Brothers come to the UK. Last week they came to Birmingham, about an hour's drive from Nottingham, and so a couple of us made the trek out to see Ryan. And his band.

When we arrived at the National Exhibition Centre (a large arena), it was three hours before the show and I called Ryan to say we'd arrived. He sent the tour manager out to meet us with backstage passes because, apparently, even he is recognized by those teenage girls here in England. As I walked past the lines of girls waiting to get in, I tried not to catch their eye as they glared at me and my shiny backstage pass.

We had a great time hanging out with Ryan and seeing the backstage action at a major show. The Jonas Brothers are currently on a 6-week world tour and travel with 15 semis of sound, lighting and staging equipment and, we were told, this is their small, pared-down set! Not to mention there was a whole fleet of tour buses. After we spent several hours with Ryan, he headed out into the arena with other band members to the screaming accompaniment of thousands of girls, and we groupies made our way to our seats. The concert was fun, but after only a few minutes I realized it was a very big mistake to forget the ear plugs. I hadn't realized just how earth-shattering a teen girl's scream can be, especially when multiplied by 10,000. No wonder nobody could hear the music at the Beatles concerts.

The Jonas Brothers (including, most importantly, my cousin Ryan Liestman, who is their keyboardist) played the National Exhibition Centre in Birmingham, UK. It was fun to see them and especially my cousin Ryan (he's the one on keys) but the screams of thousands of teenage girls reverberated in my ears for days to come.

On the drive home we mere mortals discussed how surreal the entire experience had been, and the next day I rushed into work with photos and videos on hand to show my friends.

"Look," I bubbled, showing off the pass and photos to a knot of gathered colleagues. "This is from going backstage at the Jonas Brothers concert last night."

There was no gasp, no shriek, no cry of "Oh, my daughter is going to be so jealous!" I merely looked up into a sea of blank faces.

"Should I know who the Jonas Brothers are?" one of them asked.

"Never mind," I said.

Reintroduction

2009-11-23T20:54:09Z

The original idea of this blog was to document--for my many friends and former colleagues in Chicago--my experiences during a year spent volunteering for a church in Nottingham, England. Then I'd return to my life as a Chicago journalist, refreshed and reinvigorated after a year's adventure.

That was in the fall of 2007.

It is now late November 2009 and I am (ahem) still in England. Ooops. Here's what happened:

No, I didn't fall in love, marry a British man and settle down to a life of pastoral English bliss, making friends with the local village post man, butcher and tea shop lady while writing from my quaint thatched roof cottage and raising small, accented and thoroughly confused English-American children. Not yet, anyway.

Instead, I fell in love with a new country, a new career and a new way of life.

Despite all of the expected and understandable pain that came from leaving a job, friends and a city that I loved, I discovered when I arrived in Nottingham that I was being called into something new. I spent one year volunteering for Trent Vineyard church doing menial jobs like cleaning toilets, alongside not-so-menial jobs like feeding the homeless, listening to people's stories and teaching children. Meanwhile I continued to work as a freelance journalist for Sun-Times publications in Chicago, as well as developing unpaid reporting opportunities here in Nottingham.

After one year of this ridiculously difficult but immensely fulfilling life, I was asked to stay for a second year and do more of the same. So I did. Then, at the end of my second year, I was offered a full-time job at the church to train as a pastor and--armed with a religious worker visa--I realized that it was time to make a decision. Living with an uncertain future for two years had been surprisingly fun and freeing, but it had also been very trying. I turned 30 at the beginning of my second year here and as much as I loved the adventure, I began to yearn more and more for a settled home and sense of purpose. I felt I'd had one foot on either side of the Atlantic for a long time ... and as it's an awfully wide ocean, I was very tired of trying to keep that up.

And so, after much thought, discussion, prayer, tears and endless lists of pros and cons, I chose to accept the job and make England my home for the forseeable future. That was back in May, and after a six-week "farewell" visit to many of my friends and family all over the United States, I came back to my new home two months ago. I was immediately plunged head first into work, as I started training for the three new roles my new job entails. I've worked hard on making a life for myself here by developing friendships, pursuing hobbies, trying still to pass that blasted British driving test and spending treasured time with my English boyfriend. Yet I've continued to keep up some of my journalism work by writing for Chicago-area publications and also making regular guest appearances on BBC Radio Nottingham as a guest commentator.

I pause during my 3rd Annual Birthday Bonfire Party on Nov. 5, which also happens to be the English holiday of Guy Fawkes Night. For the third year in a row, my English "family" and friends honored me with a massive bonfire/fireworks party on my birthday.

This blog, then, will continue to serve as a travel feature in which I share tidbits from my journeys around Great Britain and other parts of the world. It will continue to be a place where I can share the comedies and tragedies of being American in a country that simultaneously reveres and despises America. But it will also serve as a space, I hope, that links me to my beloved Chicago.

Although I grew up in Arizona, I came to Chicago as a young woman and it was there that not only did my professional career crystallize but did my vision and voice. Look at this blog for links between Chicago and England; for voices from both sides of the pond examining the similarities and differences between our two formidable nations; for travel ideas and for windows into the ongoing story of my life as an expat. I've learned in the two years since I've kept this blog just how interested people are in the endless connection between America and its motherland, and I do hope the conversation continues.

As for me, I'm still known widely in these English parts as "American Steph," the girl whose accent has changed perceptibly over the last two years but who will never, ever shake off the place from where she comes. And that's fine by me. As I've learned again and again over the past couple of years, "home" is a very stretchy word that covers a lot of ground. I know now that I've never really left it.

Health care conundrum, and the continuing driving saga

2009-07-27T09:36:49Z

I found this very informative article in yesterday's Guardian newspaper--read on to see an explanation for National Health Insurance-minded Brits about how the American healthcare system works, and what needs to be fixed.

On Friday I'm traveling back to America, after a year away from my homeland, for a 6-week visit. I find it slightly ironic that I've needed to purchase UK travel insurance so that I'm covered in the event of illness in the United States! I'm really looking forward to my time at home, but am actually a little bit nervous after so long away. I'm realizing more and more how England is becoming home. Will I feel like a foreigner when my plane touches down at O'Hare? Will I be excited with the convenience and familiarity? Most likely I'll just be tired! Last year the first thing I did was order a tall glass of iced tea and it tasted incredible. I may repeat the experience this year.

Thanks to all of you who sent your good wishes on for my UK driving exam. I must admit that I failed the test--through a stupid mistake born out of old driving habits! I am now in the majority of 60 percent of Americans who fail their UK driving test the first time. What I am pleased about, however, is that even though I made the mistake in the first 8 minutes and instantly knew I'd failed (it falls into the category of "serious fault" and is an automatic fail), I managed to hold it together and drive very well for the remaining 40 minutes. Had I not messed up early on, I would've passed the test with flying colors, and I'm sure I'll do so when I retake it in October

It was frustrating to fail but the test really was a good (if expensive) experience--and I was impressed by how comprehensive the exam was. The instructor took me on busy roads, little roads, large roundabouts and dual carriageways, had me demonstrate various types of manouevres and turns, asked me about how to run my car (how to test power steering, for example), and many other questions. There is no doubt that when I do pass this test I will be a better driver than before, especially when driving a manual car! The only trick will be getting back into the British driving mindset after six weeks in America.

E-Day Looms

2009-07-17T18:01:34Z

What is E-Day? E-Day is Exam Day, as in the day I take the UK Driving Exam. Mine is on Saturday, 25th July at 8.10 am and my instructor is picking me up at 7 am for the obligatory hour-long practice beforehand.

Thank you to all of you who've posted your own transatlantic driving experiences on my previous entry. I feel your pain! And, yes, the driving lessons are very expensive, as are all of the parts of the licence process. I've spent literally hundreds of pounds when including exam fees, and that's with only about 8 lessons total (not bad, really, as my instructor assures me I'm now capable of passing the test). I don't know how British parents who pay for their children to learn every aspect of driving from an instructor ever afford it!

I should note, however, that my competitively priced instructor Tim Elmer has been fantastic and that I am definitely a better driver now than I was before (but come on, I drove for 14 years in the States with no problems, so I wasn't that bad). In order to pass the UK test, drivers here do need to reach a high standard, which is only a good thing.

We'll see if I manage to pass the first time ... I do hope so as my pocketbook can't afford another booking for awhile! I also hope that my slightly dody little secondhand car (a gift from a wonderful friend) actually survives long enough for me to take it out solo on the roads. What a day that will be!

Summer in Britain

2009-07-13T20:36:23Z

After six weeks of summer adventures in mostly warm weather (80-degree heat that's been joyfully hailed by the Brits), I've collected several snapshots of life in the UK.

Punting down the River Cam in Cambridge with my work colleagues on a very fun Team Day Out (it's pretty cool to live in a country where you can day trip it to Cambridge).

An ivy-covered college along the River Cam.

I attend a very English wedding, held at Thrumpton Hall in Nottinghamshire. While the bridal party poses for photographs, guests are free to explore the first floor of the house, wander about the extensive gardens and play cricket--all with glasses of Pimms in hand, of course.

The beautiful bride Jen defends the wicket (bats) in cricket as her groom Tim looks on.

My friend Ruth and I drive to the Sherwood Forest visitor's centre near Edwinstowe, Nottinghamshire--let me mention with great pride that I am actually the one who did the driving (my UK driving exam is in two weeks)--to see parts of the old forest. It's filled with beautiful 900-year-old trees and their fallen friends, like these stumps here.

The Major Oak which, legend has it, was the tree that sheltered Robin Hood and his Merry Men when they retreated into the forest to escape the evil Sheriff of Nottingham. Although the tree is propped up with sticks, it is beautifully alive and is reckoned to be around 900 years old.

The 11th-century keep inside Cardiff Castle's Victorian walls, a fascinating old motte and bailey castle.

And finally, this made me giggle, especially as it followed a special sandwich called "The Chicago Experience" or something along those lines (I grew up on the outskirts of Phoenix).

Exploring Edinburgh

2009-05-25T11:47:52Z

Photos from my March Scotland adventure with my visiting parents continue:

After leaving Edinburgh Castle, we ducked into what looked like a little storefront selling tartan blankets and scarves and turned out to be a massive showroom with fun little weaving exhibits set up throughout.

Weaving tartan (plaid) fabric at the Scottish Tartans Museum on the Royal Mile next to the Edinburgh Castle gates.

The place is a maze and you have to walk through huge rooms and shopping areas to get out (they obviously want you to buy) but I was very happy to buy a lovely thick, tartan wool blanket that was woven right in Edinburgh. I've wanted one for ages, both for picnicking and as an extra bed blanket (they're soft and warm over a duvet on cold winter's nights) and I was glad to get an authentic one at a good price.

We then walked down a hill that was alive with spring flowers and grabbed some lunch, which we ate hillside looking over the Old Town.

After lunch we headed back to the National Galleries of Scotland (at the bottom of the hill we'd descended from the Royal Mile), which had a rather fabulous art collection with many famous pieces, such as the Skating Minister. My mother is an artist and going to art museums together is a favorite hobby, so we spent several hours in the place (taking a nice break for tea and cake in the gallery tea shop) until they shooed us out of the galleries for closing. We then spent a long time in the gallery shop until they shooed us out of there, too. "You could've made a lot more money if you'd let her stay longer," I muttered to the shopkeeper, as my art-dazed mother hurriedly brought a few more things to the till.

We strolled about the city's old town a bit more, watching sunset over the hills and ancient streets, before enjoying a great Italian meal. After this we walked up to the castle one more time, just to see the Royal Mile and city below with its nighttime light display.

Finally we caught a bus back to our charming little B&B a few miles away for a well-deserved rest before getting up the next morning for a hot breakfast and sojourn to Stirling.

To blog or not to blog?

2009-05-23T11:03:33Z

I haven't posted on this blog in two weeks, and when I realized this fact the other day I groaned aloud. Posting, you see, is work, especially when one is usually posting about one's own life.

Pausing on my way across a railroad bridge in Edinburgh

It'd be easy enough for me to post a few comments and links about the fascinating political revolution that's going on here as newspapers publish quite shocking details about expense claim abuse by elected members of parliament (the Speaker of the House was forced to step down for the first time in 300 years...longer than our Constitution has been in existence).

Or I could post solely about the amusing cultural differences between America and Britain, some of which still have the power to shock me and others. A recent example is when a male American visitor found a piece of litter on the floor and offered to "toss it," thereby sending all listeners into gales of laughter--except for me, who was thoroughly confused until a friend explained under her breath that, over here, that statement does not necessarily mean throwing the litter in the trash can. (Sorry, can't write the slang translation here, so look it up).

However, the last two weeks have been especially intense for me because of a few frightening family illnesses back home in Arizona (which I can only follow from afar and with anxious phone calls and prayers) and also because I've had to make difficult decisions about the future.

I'm happy to announce that both family health situations seem to be resolving in a hopeful manner for both my grandmother and my as-yet-unborn baby niece. I can also now announce that I've made a major decision for my future--I intend to settle in England for the next several years. I actually made this decision quite awhile ago, but have been waiting for several matters to resolve so that I am able to do this in a way that fits my visa and economic needs. I'll post more about that decision in the future (trust me, it wasn't easy....leaving one's home is never easy, no matter how much one feels called to a new home), but I hope it explains why posting light, frothy comments on this blog that was supposed to follow my one year abroad in England has become increasingly tricky.

Yes, life has been an adventure since I came here in September 2007, but adventures always come at a price, as I'm sure most people who've had them will admit. However, I can solidly testify that, despite all of the pain, frustration and homesickness, this adventure has been absolutely worth it.

Edinburgh Castle

2009-05-05T14:20:35Z

The story of my travels to Scotland, Wales and England with my parents (who visited in March) continues with these photos from Edinburgh Castle.

The approach to Edinburgh Castle, at the top of the Royal Mile.

We were there in mid-March and I couldn't believe how wonderful the weather was. Temperatures were probably around 40-50 Fahrenheit (not bad, trust me) and it was sunny every day. The daffodils and crocuses were just starting to come out around the city and the grass was green. We loved it, and views from the castle were stunning.

Looking out over the city from the castle, which is built on an extinct volcano.

Edinburgh Castle is a fantastic site, maintained by Historic Scotland. Most of the buildings are from the 1500s, but St. Margaret's Chapel is a surviving 12th-century structure.

Windows

But it's not just a bunch of old buildings. There are scores of fascinating exhibits, including the Honours of Scotland, Scotland's crown jewels. Alongside the Honours of Scotland you'll see the Stone of Destiny, the ancient stone used in the coronation of Scottish and British monarchs. Seeing that stone felt like being in a legend come to life.

View of King Arthur's Seat, another extinct volcano at the opposite end of the old town, from Edinburgh Castle.

You also learn scores about Scottish and British military history, and one unexpected treat was visiting the former prison, which displays graffiti and handiwork by American prisoners who were held there during our Revolutionary War (though in Britain they perfer to call it the War of Independence).

View of the city from an old gun hole (probably not its technical name).

While exploring the castle, I highly recommend buying a personal audio guide to help you understand the site. The explanations on the guide are simply packed with fascinating history, trivia and architectural information, and improved my visit immeasurably.

A row of guns, picturesque now but extremely important during the days of sieges and wars.

If you are visiting Scotland for less than 10 days, I also suggest purchasing a Historic Scotland Explorer Pass. Our 3-day passes gave us free access to all Historic Scotland sites for just 21 pounds per person, as well as 20 percent discounts on audio guides. As we visited both Stirling Castle and Caerlaverock Castle over the next few days, it was a bargain, indeed.

Castle walls.

Finally, I recommend spending an entire day at the castle. We were there about four hours and, even though we were a group of history buffs and keen explorers, there was just so much to see and take in that our eyes started to glaze over about 1:00 and we left for lunch and an afternoon of continued sightseeing.

Just for fun

2009-05-04T10:04:27Z

Prince Charles is visiting an Edinburgh hospital. He enters a ward full of patients with no obvious sign of injury or illness and greets one. The patient replies:

"Fair fa your honest sonsie face,
Great chieftain o the puddin race,
Aboon them a ye take yer place,
Painch, tripe or thairm,
As langs my airm."

Charles is confused, so he just grins and moves on to the next patient. The patient responds:

"Some hae meat an canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it,
But we hae meat an we can eat,
So let the Lord be thankit."

Even more confused, and his grin now rictus-like, the Prince moves on to the next patient, who immediately begins to chant:

"Wee sleekit, cowerin, timrous beasty,
O the panic in thy breasty,
Thou needna start awa sae hastie,
Wi bickering brattle."

Now seriously troubled, Charles turns to the accompanying doctor and asks "Er, is this a psychiatric ward?"

"No," replies the doctor, "This is the serious Burns unit."

(FYI: Robert Burns)

Understanding the Somali pirates

2009-04-16T12:31:17Z

Two articles in today's Times caught my attention: this analysis of the Somali bandit culture that's led to the current piracy crisis, and this "their side of the story" piece.

The release of U.S. sea captain Richard Phillips and related Somali piracy stories have dominated headlines here in Britain. Have they done the same in America?